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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. % 



Chap. , _ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. \ 




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LOVE'S HYMNAL 

SONNETS 

BY 

F. ROENA MEDINI 



^ 




I 

I 



LOVFS HYMNAL 



dSonnct^ 



BY 



/ 



F. ROENA MEDINI 




T 



CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 
1896 



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vAjv<fi^ 



Copyright, i8q6, 
By F. ROENA MEDINI. Ci^-V 



\\jSuuna.y 






TA^ Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Ca 



TO 
MY HUSBAND 

HENRY JERROLD CASEDY 



T OVE'S Hymnal this, as found on Cupid's 

-L' pyre, 

Where burned the hearts of hopeless manhood 

— age ; 
These tender plaints, this closely written page 
Illumined by the gleaming flames of fire. 
Burned not away, but sang its song to lyre 
Attuned to simple lay. O'erlooked by sage, 
A throbbing heart there paused, as if to gauge 
The pains of others with its own, — as dire 
Misfortune ever turns to like for aid 
In time of need, — best comforted to find 
That others' pains are keener than their own. 
Some comfort here the lover found, nor stayed 
To quench the flame that round the altar twined, 
And love hath since far dearer grown. 



HobeV i^pmnal 



MY love, my better self, read line on line, — 
It is my soul that speaks, so, dear, fold 
down 
The leaves I send, to be my heart's renown. 
Within the temple of thy heart, if mine 
Hath raised with others there a holy shrine. 
Am I to hush my whispered prayer, or drown 
With tears the arches high, at love's mute frown ? 
If there an alien I should prove. Oh ! twine 
The altar I have raised with chaplets fair. 
To be my tomb, and love the grave that none 
Shall see, for love's dear sake. Imprisoned there 
I still shall live as memory lives, to shine 
Adown the pathway of thy life's decline, 
Till out of death, again life's victory 's won. 

I 



%abe*i S^gmnal 



II 

IF my poor heart leaps forth in rhythmed line, 
And lips dare breathe what fluttering heart- 
throbs tell, 
Think not the utterance came at birth, — or fell 
From lips unwittingly. Long time the sign 
I strove to stifle in my breast, — the wine 
That ferments in the darkness of its cell 
Is not at times more bitter in its well 
Than I, denouncing this mad love of mine. 
The wondering world would say, full well I know. 
If once it read the passion of my soul, 
" 'T were late," but not for torturing pains that 

grow 
To tempests that o'erwhelm like bitter fate. — 
IVit^ weary brow a7id heavy feet ^ the goal 
I sought is known and reached^ alas, too late. 



Hflbc*^ l^smnar 



III 

AND if thy beating heart the truth tells not, 
Believe no words of mine. Or if they start 
No echoing sigh, compassion's weary part 
I would not ask of thee. Such mournful lot 
Were sadder than these heavy tears that blot 
The page whereon I write. If thy warm heart 
Be dumb to throbbing of my own, apart 
From tender pity that some need begot, 
I am no more to thee than yonder moon 
That, why, thou canst not tell, within thy breast 
A sadness drops, that passes ere 't is noon. 
I am no more than they, once friends, who 've 

learned 
Thy bitterness through trust betrayed, — more 

blest 
I 'd be by far, to know my friendship spurned. 



^abs*i l^emnal 



IV 

SINCE halting verse hath breathed this secret 
care, 
Mine eyes refuse to master thine. One time, 
I held thee so — aloof, and deemed it crime 
In that my pulse beat high, but now I dare 
Not stir the bubble of a thought, aware 
We both must strive for mastery to climb 
To summit of a life we 'd make sublime. 
And so, when thy dear eyes seek mine, I share 
With thee thy thought, yet will not look to read 
Thy heart's desire, lest that my lips lean hence 
To drink sweet nectar with true lovers' greed. 
Sternly I set our task with Art above 
All else, and hold in leash each quivering 

sense. 
To meet thy glance and chain with duty — love. 



E0b^^ D^gmnal 



NOT joy, the cymbals strike to sound my 
heart. 
To hymn my thoughts, is bitterness the meed. 
Some sharply darting pain, the birth's sad need : 
Some growing doubt, that I who stand apart 
To catch the glow of morn, denying Art, 
Have reached too far, and so must stand indeed 
With empty hands, which, pricked with thorns, 

do bleed. 
But I, that, gazing, felt the poisoned dart 
Sped from thine eyes, had gladly swooned with 

pain, 
When trembling fear I had not read aright 
Crept in to strike a chill through every vein. 
And yet love turned no brighter page of fate 
Than just to love thee. /, to morning light 
Awoke too sooft, — and thou^ awoke too late. 



Enbe*^ l^gnmal 



VI 

"\ T O vain desire speeds with the flash of wit, 
-*- ^ The sympathies that reaching out gain 

friends, 
Till 'round my woman's shrine, there kneeling 

bends 
A goodly company where queen I sit. 
Each conquest made, on memory's tablet writ, 
Is thought of thee, and added lustre lends 
To prove, in pleasing others, that amends 
It makes for pleasing thee, and if I flit, 
A restless bird, what better proof is thine 
Than that my heart, oft sad, its time beguiles ? 
If changed (I know the art), thou ne'er shalt 

see 
How deeply I may grieve. The bitter brine 
Of tears unshed, I '11 hide beneath the smiles 
The world found glad, because beloved by thee. 



^ahei lilsmnal 



VII 



LAST night I sat amidst a gallant throng 
When suddenly, my love, thou cam'st to me 
In thought ! Thy presence, thou, electric — thee, 
In plenitude of will, as forceful, strong. 
Thy melting eye held mine a moment long, 
No more ; yet in that instant all to thee 
Had yielded sway, and faint, I could not see 
The surging faces of the crowd. The song 
A graceful singer sang, I had not heard. 
Beside me, some one spoke, and marveled much 
At pallor of my face ; I spoke no word, 
But wanly smiled. The spell, alas, was broke. 
A dream — you were not there, and oft from 

such 
A vision, sweet with pain, I am awoke. 



JLabt*^ ^yimnaX 



VIII 

DEAR heart, I dare not dream of what our 
lives 
Might be, if we were free to love, we two. 
As freely as the earth loves sun, the dew 
The flowers, — when at thy fancied coming strives 
The soul for mastery, and almost rives 
In twain the body and its sense. To thee 
Grants God my ardent soul enslaved, and free 
Or bound, as thine, nor life nor death deprives. 
What then, if through the temple of the soul 
(Made meek by blights mankind can only guess) 
There shone a hope that heart to heart our years 
Might drift to peaceful calm — that tangled mesh 
Of life unraveled, swift to us appears 
The blessed haven of that longed for goal. 



Eobe'tf f^gmnal 



IX 

IN loving thee a little, can it harm ? " 
Saidst thou ? The guerdon of a love is won 
By risking all, by giving all. Not one 
In this wide world hath loved, if love's alarm 
Held Cupid's bow in bondage, or the warm 
And beating heart its mercury limits run. 
To flee, to crowd out thought, if it be done 
And so to " little love " be dwarfed, we arm 
The will and teach the heart, through chill of 

world's 
Calm reasoning, that love can buy or this, 
Or that, where Fate rules all. When she unfurls 
The scroll whereon is writ thy name and mine. 
Shall we there find a withered rose to kiss 
With tears, or deathless tendrils, love doth twine ? 



3LaU*i l^pmnal 



X 

\ T THEN first the fingers of our hands had 

But touched, I felt from thine electric stream 
Like lava through each limb. My thoughts which 

teem 
With fancies, much I blamed, and strictly set 
Unbending watch o'er folly, which, to let 
Unchidden go, disgraced, I thought, the dream 
I held of noble womanhood. The beam 
Of thy soft eye with loyalty I met. 
My duty done, no thought could e'er intrude ; 
Yet when emotion in our hearts awoke 
Again, I chided mine, and said : " Be still. 
There 's danger here for him. My sufferings rude 
Must not o'ercast his spirit 'gainst my will." 
And so, my heart I on my honor broke. 



lO 



JLabt*& l^gmnal 



XI 

^ T THEN intuition taught me that to gain 
• ■ Sweet peace, thy heart waged struggles 
fierce, there waked 
No thought of self. For thee my peace was 

staked, 
As guerdon of the wish to save you pain. 
But what of self ? I sought the path in vain. 
When o'er my lips the anxious flood escaped 
In sentences half formed, or voice enlaked 
In tears, that years of grief had left like rain, 
Unwept, thine eyes, true mirrors of thy soul, 
Cried out to me, " Thou for thyself dost plead." 
But when my lips had tremblingly turned mute, 
Thou saidst, " Give speech unto our souls, to roll 
The stone away and chide, is like a lute. 
And sweet as praise, what wots if I take heed." 



II 



Eab^i^ i^gmnal 



XII 

TO chide I feared, for in my heart there grew 
So swift a consciousness of love, — delayed 
Till now, I shrank within my soul dismayed, 
And coldness barred my heart from self, till 

through 
The weary hours of night, no mother knew 
More holy longings, nor more humbly prayed, 
Than I for thee, whate'er thy life essayed. 
Again we stand unveiled to each, and true 
As magnets, sweep our souls in one, for time 
Eternal, and through space. Yet, gathering force, 
We utter words belying speech of eyes : 
Our honor staked 'gainst love, we know no course 
Beside, and bondsmen to ourselves, arise 
To stem the passion of a love sublime. 



12 



Eflbc*^ il^emnal 



XIII 

WHAT though my pulses thrilled like 
mighty flame, 
That seething round half blinded me, I held 
At bay the prayer within thine eyes, — impelled 
By powers above, beyond — who knows ? (The 

same 
Hath guided us o'er pitfalls deep, we came 
Upon all unaware, when, still upheld 
By powers unseen, the raging storm is quelled, 
Before we 've asked for strength through heavenly 

name.) 
In vain ! I stood confessed unto my soul, 
That nothing stood between my life and thee, 
But just so much of doubt that might be sin, 
To give thus much,were meant to give the whole, 
And then no more to self, denied, " to be " 
Was written on my heart, and burned therein. 



13 



Habeas? I^gmnal 



XIV 
HAT greeting shall be given thee, my 



w 



own, 

When, listening rapt, I hear thy step, and think 
That all the world has heard the sound to link 
Its bounding echo with my changed tone ? 
Shall I so steel my looks that thou alone 
Canst note the blood from out my lips doth 

sink 
To level of my heart, and o'er its brink 
The throbs rebound till, 'gainst my temples 

grown 
To thousand anvils, I but hear my voice 
An icy tone, that utters civil words 
In phrases rounded well for other ears ? 
So, greeting thee, my inward sense as birds 
Made tremulous, there rests no other choice, 
And opposite of that I am, appears. 



14 



%abt*i l^gmnal 



XV 

OR if thy coming find me quite alone, 
And, unaware, I ope the door to find 
Thee there enframed, and flame of joy behind 
The slower courtesy of speech, upthrown, 
Leaps forth from shining eyes, they swift atone 
By hiding in such offices the mind 
Conceives to mask itself, — a spool to wind. 
To drape a curtain, — this or that, till grown 
More calm, mine eyes can look in thine and 

speak 
Of trivial things, as if 't were they, not thee, 
Made up my sum of life, — or else, turned weak, 
I scarcely dare give speech, lest lips too bold 
Such truths shall yield, I stand unveiled, 

and be 
Unworthy thee, and all thy heart may hold. 



15 



%abt*^ Hfittinal 



XVI 

TT THEN oft the longing for thy presence 

• ^ sweeps 
Like chilly blast across my aching heart, 
And, throbbing to its core, all else is part 
Of chaos, standing still in icy deeps 
Of space, wherein Time's dial mutely weeps, 
Refusing more to move, since we apart 
Must stand, — in visions comest thou, to start 
The universe in rhythmic beat, . . . upleaps 
My soul to rest in thine its piteous care, 
And once again, by vision pacified, 
I mingle with the world, speak light, am gay, 
And teach my heart it illy does to wear 
A grief that burns earth's uses from my day, — 
But swift returned, my. grief is magnified. 



i6 



%aW^ ^^mtml 



XVII 

WHAT though thy tenderness like cloak 
enfold 
Me round, and soft as dew thy kisses fall 
Upon my face ? my doubting heart must call 
It pity's proof, not love's, thy heart doth hold, 
Lest ardor of my own, which, grown too bold, 
Interpretations make, and wrong to all 
The rarer tenderness thy speech let fall, 
Begot by no such flame as mine, — if told 
At morn, at noon, at night thy love, — if held 
The idol of thy heart, I still these fears 
Must court, that, self-deceived, thou lov'dst me 

not. 
And so, 't is best this love of mine (impelled 
As flowers to hide when noonday's sun appears), 
Beyond the joy of loving thee, — asks nought. 



17 



ILDbE'g l^gmnal 



XVIII 

WHEN first my mocking lips were brushed 
by thine 
More soft than breezes kiss the flowers at morn, 
I know not how my life awoke newborn ; 
Within thy arms, thy lips enshrined in mine, 
I had forgot, and blushed, that, like a vine, 
I clung to thee as if to part had torn 
Love's rapture from my heart. So long I 'd worn 
The mask indifference, that to now incline 
My head unto thy will, and on thy breast 
To sudden trembhng take, was yielding quite. 
But brief such dream to woman, who awakes 
To danger of her love. For her the test. 
To rise to strength, and from such joy take flight 
For her is left the pain brief rapture makes. 



i8 



?L0bc'^ l^gmnal 



XIX 

AT Venice, in the centuries now past, 
Near entrance to the Doge's palace, stood 
A lion, 'twixt whose lips, for worldly good. 
The people placed each plaint or prayer. . . . 

Thou, cast 
Before the palace of my heart, as fast 
The secrets, mute as he, receiv'st my brood 
Of plaints, my vows, my prayers, that, often sued, 
Outnumber drops within the ocean vast. 
Swift on thy ruby lips with blessings kissed 
Is laid my prayer, with repetitions soft, 
And then I speed away with guilty face. 
As they, too, sped from urgent prayer, which oft 
Had wronged their gracious rights withal ; but 

list. 
Still unrepentant, here my prayer I place. 



19 



Hflbe'^ ?^gmnal 



XX 



WHEN once thy hand outreached sought 
mine, awaked 
By tenderness, my own poor hand crept in, 
And like a rose with folded leaves, its thin 
And taper fingers, that full long had ached 
To know such loving joy, lay still and slaked 
Their burning thirst for loving touch therein, 
Till, pulses calmed, no fluttering bird within 
Its nest could fold its weary wings (though 

waked 
Ere dawn) with gentler restfulness. My hand 
Since then hath grown more gentle to mankind, 
Hath seemed as if for lofty purpose planned. 
In other grasp it hath not long remained, 
As if once sanctified, it shrank to find 
Itself in heedless clasp o'ermuch detained. 



20 



%Qbt'^ i^gmnal 



XXI 

X T 7HEN first I knew thee, swiftly words of 

■ ^ praise 
My lips would pass, as men give praise to 

men; — 
Or women, each to each, now and again 
Will frankly praise a son's, a father's ways. 
Quite innocent of deeper sense than weighs 
Beneath our idlest words. I found that when 
We least expect, love's fetters hide, and then 
Are welded fast through all our future days. 
Since when, I scarce can say thy name, so fast 
My pulses bound, and others chance in speech 
To say or this, or that of thee. — To frame 
Thy praise I coldly speak, or seek to cast 
Aside the consciousness of love, to reach 
That calm control indifference may claim. 



21 



Eofec*^ I^BittnaT 



XXII 

' I ^HOU hast assured me oft I need not fear 
-^ Thy loss, and yet, 'twixt thought and 
speech there lies 
The subtle field interpretation. — Wise 
And chosen words mislead the heart, a tear 
Belies a phrase, and so, grown glad while near, 
When gone, swift fears that I mistook thee rise 
Like haunting ghosts, and then within me dies 
The comfort thou hadst left. My duty clear, 
Again I chide my heart for loving thee, 
Lest that I lay upon thy spirit aught 
Of weight that draws unto itself a sigh, 
A tear, nay any melancholy thought 
That might in loving service, bold and free, 
More happily be given were I not nigh. 



22 



Eflb^fi l^smnal 



XXIII 

IF I do wrong my love and thee, to sow 
Such unbelief, an abnegation this 
Of love's great joy, — sorely its good I miss ; 
Yet, placing far away the hopes, 't is so 
An adamantine wall 'gainst bitterer blow 
Of disappointment. But I love thee, — kiss 
Thee as my spirit's good, and feel such bliss 
Must overtop by far a worldly show 
Of reasoning. I love thee ! Love thou me. 
But love me as thou lov'st the sun, — no less 
Thine own, if missed a day, and wakes no fear 
Its beams will fail to shine again on thee. 
Or, love me as thou lov'st the stars, that, near 
Or far, do glow with tender watchfulness. 



23 



^abfs l^gmnal 



XXIV 

AND how, my heart of hearts, shall I love 
thee? 
What plenitude of words could tell thee how, 
And never falter, never err. I vow 
My love, and yet the pictured speech, I see 
When done, hath outlined merely. Drawn as 

free 
As artist's hand, but still I must allow 
'T would fit a hundred loves that humbly bow 
Before the throne of Cupid. Mine must be 
I know not what, — the gladness of the spheres, 
The sadness of the grave, — the light of heaven. 
The pains of hell. The joyous laugh, — the tears 
That ope the floodgates of the soul, the songs 
Of tenderness and mirth, the fears that leaven 
Every bliss, and trust which rights all wrongs. 



24 



lS.abt*S iggmnaX 



XXV 

I LOVE thee with the childlike faith of one 
Believing God, — with purity that shines 
Above an angel's brow ; with love that binds 
Our hearts in simpler deeds of life, that run 
On level of its arduous duties done. — 
Its talks, its walks, the glance, the sigh, it finds 
Swift sympathies in each. — A love that blinds 
Us so, we scarce beneath its dazzling sun 
Can choose the path, for O, I love thee too 
With woman's struggling heart, whom love doth 

wound 
Till oft she falters o'er the brink of wrong 
For him who doth her heart's desire imbue. 
And right for God. What more but to be strong .> 
For love debased, alas, is love uncrowned. 



25 



il0bc'^ ^gmnal 



XXVI 

IN all the years I lived, not knowing thee, 
Amidst my griefs there dwelt a soulful sight. 
Upholding me as one that seeth a light. 
There waked no sound, unthrilled from thee to 

me, 
No sadness could I know, that *neath it, free 
As chimes of bells, did not thy coming bright 
Ring out. How could my griefs bring blight 
When it was writ thy light mine eyes should 

see ! 
Philosophy hath bitter laws ; we grow, 
And reach, and yearn for what we scarcely know ; 
Then Cupid, perching unaware, his tip 
Speeds forth, to shatter castles high as air. 
So strong, grave science hath no art nor care 
To fill, yet Cupid's bow the whole can trip. 



26 



Eotic'^ ^gmnal 



XXVII 

WHEN, years agone, a sudden conscious 
thought 
Passed through thy mother's heart th' unwritten 

word, 
I bless the quickened pulse that in her stirred 
The knowledge of thy sacred charge, which 

naught 
But God's own will could her gainsay ; where 

aught 
That blessed or beautified her sight, or bird 
That soared, each glorious song or sound she 

heard 
Was cherished for the sake of life she sought 
To nourish with her being's tenderest care. 
I bless her for her daily thoughts that grew 
To hopeful love ; I bless her for the dreams 
She wove into the garb she 'd have thee wear. 
I can but think, of all the brood she knew, 
Thy advent, rich with love, the dearest seems. 

27 



iCfltje*^ ^gmnal 



XXVIII 

I LOVE the earth whereon thy shadow 's laid, 
The sun that kisses thee, the moon that 
peeps 
Into the casement where my loved one sleeps. 
I love the book wherein the letters fade 
That bear the name thy boyish fingers made. 
I love the ivory which forever keeps 
The impress of thy staying touch, or leaps 
'Neath mine to hopeful sounds, when, sore afraid, 
I sighed that only these remain to me. 
I love a voice in certain tearful song. 
Grown sacred since one day it spoke of thee. 
And should the grave cast o'er thee noisome 

breath, 
I 'd love the mound that sheltered thee, and long 
To meet, while blessing it, th' embrace of death. 



28 



3iabt*^ ilgmnal 



XXIX 

I BLESS the maidens who have loved thee 
well, 
(I cannot blame the ones who tempted thee). 
Each rose-leaf round thy footsteps cast must be 
The memories tender, whose sweet perfume tell 
The fateful, dearest love that thee befell, 
Was last among the roses on its tree. 
It with rare fragrance hung there lovingly, 
A little shook by storms that sweep the dell, 
A trifle pale from tears the night doth start ; 
But when, at look of thine, it blushed again. 
New life suffused its ardent veins, and leaf 
By leaf the history of sweet love's belief 
Is written softly there, with Cupid's dart. 
And waits alone for thy dear heart's Amen. 



29 



EotJC'^ l^pmnal 



XXX 

IF these my written words, with love aglow, 
Were all that in thy life remained of me, 
I wonder if thy heart, at last set free. 
Might not forget ? Then be it so ! 
What greater praise than that the notes that grow 
More sweet with love awake thy heart, and be 
Forgot the singer, not the song ? When we 
Give love, and ask no counterpart, we know 
The joy of worship is our recompense. 
When joy's sweet pain outlives its parent stem. 
As must the thorn outlive the fragrant rose, 
Full oft the fragrance o'er our dreaming sense 
Will swift recall the happier day, and so 
Be born that perfect peace, love's diadem. 



30 



llDtjc'^ ^VimnRl 



XXXI 

IF I remained content to hear thy name, 
To see thee pass afar, though thou mightst 
yearn 
To see my face, thou soon unmoved wouldst turn 
Away without a sigh. It is the same 
With graves we pass each day: when sorrow 

came, 
The mourner grieved ; accustomed grief will burn 
And sear the heart, till much alike, we learn. 
Is sad indifference, which, to gentler frame, 
We call the " healing o'er of time." Farewell ! 
Necessity to part is ever sad, 
Yet worse the love that of the grave hath breath. 
So then I flee, when to have stayed, with glad 
And tender touches of thy hand to tell 
Of love, were bliss ; to go, a living death. 



31 



llot)r*iS l^smnal 



XXXII 

ALAS, alas, for youth's dear sake, I ought 
Not sing such sad refrain, but guide my 
song 
Until, triumphant, it might ring so strong 
That heaven would echo to the gladness caught. 
No life so sad it hath not light inwrought 
With sombre woof ; no heart so dead, the wrong 
It suffered may not hope reward. The long 
And dreary road hath aye an end, and, sought 
Or anxiously evaded, death will free 
The soul from endless striving 'gainst a fate 
We vainly seek through life to subjugate, 
With hope to grow in attributes, that, done 
With earth, the higher joys of heaven will be 
Conceded recompense for perils run. 



32 



ILflbt*^ l^gmnal 



XXXIII 

T WONDER, if beholding me thus worn 
-*- And shaken with the weary years, a tear 
Will not, beneath thine eyelids, dim thy dear 
And kindly sight ; and if so loved, though born 
To less of joy than all the world, my torn 
And bleeding heart were not repaid the fear 
It held, by thee forgot, that year by year 
Must heavier prove than could be easy borne ? 
Nay, nay, I would not have thy love at cost 
So dear to thee ; that I be tempest-toss'd. 
It is enough, and better far the thought, 
To stand aside, if thou wert passing by. 
To gather to my heart the pain it brought, 
Remain unseen, and bless thee with each sigh. 



33 



3LaW^ Hgmnal 



XXXIV 

ONE time I thought, when griefs grew old, 
my face 
Would claim again its tender outlines, glow 
With all the light that once reflected so 
The happiness within ; for oft the grace 
Of years may softer beauty interlace 
Than youth hath ever known ; but though my woe 
Be banished from my face, and waking grow 
To brightness with the interests of our race, 
Asleep, the angel Sorrow draws her lines 
Deep in wherever she hath cast her shade. 
And only grief remains. At morn the brines 
Of bitter tears hath washed therein so deep, 
Nor youth nor hope, one vestige more doth keep, 
And joy handmaiden of dire woe is made. 



34 



^aW^ l^gmnal 



XXXV 

WHEN some one spake thy name, to say, 
" He comes," 
My soul took courage ; yet, last night, so dark 
The way, I wondered how, with not a spark 
Of light about my path, no meagre crumbs 
Of comfort, I could bear this grief that numbs 
The heart to common joy. Death, grim and 

stark. 
Holds not the dread that loveless life doth mark 
The years withal ; so, when they said, " He 

comes," 
I joyed, although I wished my weary face 
Might be forever hid, as one long dead : 
Remembered ever with its youth, its light. 
And rosy tints ; remembered with no trace 
Of age or care ; beloved because so bright, 
Not cherished for the beauty that has fled. 



35 



ilflbc*iS f^gmnal 



XXXVI 

IN all the shipwrecks of earth's stormy life, 
Thine eyes still beam the beacon o'er its sea. 
When others fail, thou, steadfast, art to me 
God's truth, the gleam of sun that 'midst the 

strife 
Doth light my path when bitter doubts are rife. 
When all seems false and hollow, then I see 
Thy face, I feel thy touch, and know in thee 
Those virtues which true manhood claims ; thy 

life 
The one just thing that weary days have known, 
The rest as false as happiness we dress 
The face withal, or smiles one scatters round 
To hide the wounds that bleed within, now grown 
Too old and deep for surgeon's knife to sound. 
I thank thee, love, for Faith's sweet happiness. 



36 



Eobe*^ l^gmnal 



XXXVII 

\T THEN through me thrilled the conscious- 

' ^ ness of power 
To move in thee emotions that thy glance 
Alone could wake, I shuddered at the chance 
Temptation, seeking to dispel the hour 
Of glamour which too ardent souls o'erpower, 
I scarce dared touch thy hand when in the dance 
We moved to rhythm sweet that e'er enhanced 
The wondrous charm. " Not love, true love, my 

dower. 
How could he find in this world-beaten shell 
The ideal love a poet seeks ? I wield 
Some power, perhaps," I mused, " yet time would 

tell 
How fleeting transient passion's reign can be," 
And worldly wise, I saw, but would not yield ; 
Yet futile all my struggles to be free ! 



37 



Unbc*? llgmnaX 



XXXVIII 

FOR when we sing I see the blood recede 
From out thy face, my own to follow it, 
A-vibrate with the thrilling tones that flit 
From note to note, soul-stirred by words that 

lead 
To sense of sad farewell. The sudden need 
Of strength breaks o'er my heart. Aroused, I 

sit, 
Thy critic stern, — a word, rebuke, admit 
No faltering, till back we 're swept and freed 
From slumbering passion that would overleap 
Control. O dreaming hearts, back, back to 

earth, 
H3T)ocrisy, to falsehood, which sweet eyes 
Gainsay, but spell me not with lovers' sighs 
To ask if I do love, or else I keep 
The truth in leash, denying Cupid's birth ! 



38 



3iabt'^ l^gmnaX 



XXXIX 

Is AID, " To part is better for us both ; " 
Yet, love, while granting danger, great to 
thee. 
What boon in all this life is left to me 
So sweet as tender love, whose daily growth 
I battled with all laws of mind, and loath 
To yield e'en then, I fled because, to see 
Thee knowing it a wrong, could never be. 
The purer love we 'd choose to give in oath. 
Is it enough that thou canst see beneath 
This outward form of me some flame 
Akin to thine, though worlds would mate us not ? 
If sometimes selfish earth's desires bequeath 
The pains of longings vain, they only came 
To prove (when overcome) their blessed lot. 



39 



fLabt'^ I^Bmnal 



T 



XL 



HE joyous bells of hope and deathless love 
Are waked this morn to sound such ring- 



ing songs, 
I scarce can spell the one that most belongs 
To calmer beat of love's repose. Above 
Their broken music, like a restful dove, 
My heart in gladness sweet with memory throngs, 
Forgetting quite the bitterness and wrongs 
That Fate heaped high to check true love. 
Mine own, when glad I read the crowded page 
Whereon thy love and hopelessness doth wage, 
I am not saddened by the maze of pain 
That tripped our wary feet ; if they deceived 
Two earnest hearts, 't is past, and ours the gain, 
Believing, and regretting not that we believed. 



40 



%aWS l&gmnal 



w 



XLI 



HEN thou art nigh, I have no words, no 



speech, 

For swiftly chasing thoughts ; I only know 
That thou art mine for space so brief, I throw 
Away much tender joy within my reach. 
In dread of that grim spectre who to each 
Will swiftly come and say, " 'T is time to go." 
And then, thou gone, my thoughts with tumult 

grow 
To words I might have said when eyes could 

teach 
My meaning, or thy lips with swifter kiss 
Had sealed my own with " Yes, I understand." 
O love, my king, thou knowest this, all this, 
That love is deathless 'midst the chaos life. 
Nor reasoning cold, philosophy, nor strife 
Can bury love, or love withstand. 



41 



Jlobc*fii f)2mnal 



XLII 

DOUBT thou a love that fears the sun, 
Or shames itself to speak thus heart to 
heart, 
But not of love that hath no thought apart 
From thee. Each heart-beat of the past was 

one 
Of longing for the joy that is, — we run 
The gauntlet of emotions that up start 
Alert to recognize dear Cupid's dart, 
But how atone for wrong that has been done 
When errant Fancy left sore wounds behind ? 
Let cautiousness o'ermatch the cunning jade, — 
If we mistook for love her thin disguise. 
Evaded and unsought came love when Cupid 

blind. 
Unmindful of his mark, the murderer played 
And pinioned us, midst tears and sighs. 

42 



lobe's ^pmnal 



XLIII 

AS on the threshold of fruition sweet, 
I pause, and question yet, if right toward 
thee, 
How stubborn dual egos are to free 
From doubt the aye and nay my heart must 

meet. 
Can love's great boon be realized, nor fleet 
The happiness once disbelieved ? In fee, 
One might accept a taste of joy ; but see 
The goal too dear to hope in dreams, I greet 
Its semblance with a doubt. 

Forgive, O love, 
Long time it is, since in the spirit, thine 
I vowed myself, take also thou the blame 
Of holding me, as I hold thee. The dove 
Of Peace, in loving trust, our hearts shall tame, 
And earth a heaven become in life's decline. 



43 



Inbe'g 5)pmnal 



XLIV 

LOVE wedded, adds to sleep the blissful 
sense 
Of Presence, and the heart o'er-fuU oft wakes 
To joy in joy, or midway slumb'ring, takes 
A gladsome comfort stretching thence 
A hand inertly, sleepily where dense 
The darkness lies, to touch, as light as flakes 
Of snow, the dear one's cheek, who mayhap, 

wakes. 
Or, sleeping still, imprints the seal intense 
Of lips' devotion, or detains the hand 
With loving replications of its touch. 
As if to say, " God bless thee, dear, 't is planned 
That sleeping, waking, or in death, thus much 
Thou knowest well, through this unerring bond, 
Shall each to each our soul's pure love respond." 



44 



lobe's {)pmnal 



XLV 

AND I, grown fonder with the years and thee, 
Must wonder that the dial Time, so swift 
With griefs for others, yet has left no rift 
In summer of our hearts. I feared to be 
Content ; to find myself thus truly free 
To love, and be so loved. That I may lift 
A thankful heart, receive the treasured gift 
And call it wholly mine, is marvel glad. 
And so I hold my happiness in trust, 
Half fearing that, like angel visitant, 
It prove as brief. This joy, if I make sad 
With less than heaven's confidence, I must 
Deny its God and sin, — a militant. 



45 



